


I Trust Myself to You

by StarksInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tourney at Harrenhal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarksInTheNorth/pseuds/StarksInTheNorth
Summary: Lyanna meets Rhaegar for the first time, and turns herself over to his mercy.
Relationships: Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	I Trust Myself to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cional](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cional/gifts).



> This is a repost from 2016, based off a prompt from cional: I am terribly interested in Lyanna Stark and her first conversation with The Prince and that Tourney and how she let herself be stuck into that Tower.
> 
> Personally, I subscribe to the [Harrenhal Conspiracy Theory](https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/4ycbml/spoilers_everything_the_harrenhal_conspiracy_part/), which seems, to me, one of the most logical conclusions of how Lyanna got to the Tower of Joy. This is sort of supposed to lead to that, or some kinds of mutual esteem.

“My prince.” Lyanna Stark startles at Prince Rhaegar's entry into her secluded clearing through the haze of closely clustered trees, her grey gaze wide and chin trembling. She dips into a half curtsy-half bow, mind reeling from being caught in the act that she hoped would go unnoticed after she left the tourney field.

And caught she is.

Lyanna stands surrounded by scattered pieces of mismatched armor, extraneous pieces stolen from highborn knights with armor to spare. She still wears her brother Ned's collar of chainmail round her neck and holds a just-removed vambrace in her hand. A circular shield, painted with a laughing weirwood tree, rests at her feet.

She is caught, her future unknown with the king demanding the mastery knight's head and his son stares at her from across the field of grass.

Their eyes lock in an eternal gaze, effulgent purple and earnest grey. Lyanna breaks the spell with the first words that come to her.

“You played beautifully at the feast the other night.” The confession of her admiration spills from her lips, unbidden. The air is strained in the green glade as she waits for Prince Rhaegar’s reaction. She must admit defeat to him, for he has apprehended her with the very shield she wore. She thrusts her chin forward defiantly. "I will admit I cried at the sadness in your last song, though I do not cry often."

“And you fought well in the lists, my lady.” His slim, silver eyebrow raises and a small smile graces his lips. "Although I do not tear at jousting. Even when men die."

Lyanna tenses, automatically admitting her defeat. Her fate rests with the crown prince now. Her mind revolts in a frenzy of activity more hurried than the preparations for the tourney and her last-minute decision to defend Lord Reed, her father's bannerman and her brother's friend.

How will this shining prince handle their predicament- will he grace her with mercy and protect her secret? Or will he give her to the King’s Justice and follow the conviction that calls for the identity of the Knight of the Laughing Tree? She could be dead, she could bring shame upon her father and her brothers . . . and Robert, her someday husband.

Her hands quiver and quickly her body follows until every part of her shakes in distress. There was a justice to be served, a lesson to be taught, a bannerman to defend - how can she explain this to the son of the king?

“Lady Lyanna, please don’t fear me.” His mien softens and Prince Rhaegar strides closer. Lyanna lifts her gaze from the grass beneath her feet. She studies him, the careful braids pulling his silver hair back from his pale, chiseled face; the wide shoulders and haunting, haunted eyes; the full lips quite ready to smile but still so sad to see. “I hold only the highest regards for your noble efforts. You did well, and my father's declaration that you be found and killed was a folly. Mystery knights are a thing of songs, heroes to be rewarded for their bravery in pursuit of goals beyond personal glory.”

She falls to her knees with hands clasped in a position of prayer, bowing over in relief to hear his soft kindnesses. Her knees thud painfully against the wooden shield at her feet, but she ignores the surge that thrusts up her legs. "Your highness, I-"

Prince Rhaegar kneels before her, movements slow and careful. His height still sets him above Lyanna, so that she must raise her chin to look at him fully. "There are no apologies to be had, my lady."

"Is there anything I may do?" She tries not to withdraw as he takes her hands and holds them up between their two bodies. "I have not earned your mercy."

Up close, the prince is even more beautiful than she had thought. His silver hair is pulled back in a tail behind his head, accenting the strong jaw and the sad eyes that twinkle under the light from the midday sun above. Rhaegar Targaryen is close enough that she could reach out and caress his face, if only she had the nerve to try.

"You only did what was right." Rhaegar leans in closer, his warm breath grazing over her cheeks. "I would ask nothing of you, my lady, except for a favor."

"My favor?" That is not the request she expects. He should carry his wife's favor in the tourney, or his mother's, or else his secret lover's. Not some young girl who no one knows anything of.

"Your shield, to present it to my father the King so the mystery knight may be put to rest in his mind." Rhaegar's firm grip tightens around her hands and Lyanna blushes that she misunderstood. "I swear before the Seven I will not reveal your identity to any man, Lyanna Stark."

"Then my shield is yours to take, my prince." She sighs the words, half-lost in the intensity of his eyes. This time, she does not stiffen as he comes closer. Lyanna's eyelids flutter shut when Rhaegar presses lips lightly above her brow.

A silent moment passes as she feels her shield drawn from beneath her, her knees sliding off and into the soft grass. Time slows, its passing only noted by the draw and release of her every breath and the rustle of the wind through the tree's branches.

When Lyanna finally dares to open her eyes, she sits alone in the godswood, her missing shield the only sign that it was not all some mysterious dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, then come fan over ASOIAF/GOT goodness with me on [tumblr](http://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/).


End file.
